


A cup of spilled tea

by Vodka20 (Cirilla9)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkwardness, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon Compliant, Clumsiness, Disturbing Fluff, Dubious Morality, Extremely Dubious Morality, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Missing Scene, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 20:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirilla9/pseuds/Vodka20
Summary: Someone that everyone take for Alastor Moody invites Neville for a cup of tea





	A cup of spilled tea

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't find the scene anywhere so finally I've written one myself. I'd be grateful for some links, though, if there are stories focusing on the twisted Neville-Barty thing! :D

A heavy book landed on the table before Neville, who still looked a bit shaken: pale, absent, eyes not seeing and mouth parted slightly, obviously lost into his own thoughts. He didn’t even jump startlingly as the thick volume lammed the wooden surface, noise resounding through the room.

Defense Against the Dark Arts office changed its décor with every new professor, that is each year. Now it was rather gloomy, stony grey, free of unnecessary accessories, yet including a few maliciously looking artifacts.

“I guess I went a bit too far with these Curses during the first lesson, didn’t I?” started an unusual professor when it became clear Neville wasn’t going to break the silence on his own. “I’ll make you some tea, you’ll feel better in no time.”

The man that taught DADA this year filled the pewter kettle with water and heated the bottom of the vessel with a simple warming spell.

“I was a student once myself, I know how it is. A man goes back to school after vacation, hard to get used to all the schedule, and on top of that I’m providing you such a thrilling start.”

“N-no, that’s not it,” Neville stuttered, “you’re a teacher, of course you choose the method, Mr. Moody. It’s just that… the thing is… my parents, they…”

“Yes? You can tell me. If you want to, of course. I don’t mean to put any pressure.”

“T-they-” Neville’s lips trembled.

“Passed away?”

“No! No, they live. Although it’s a bit like they don’t… A group of Deatheaters got them; it was toward the end of it all…”

“And? What did they do to them?” the man looking like Alastor Moody licked his lip intently.

“They tortured them-”

“By Cruciatus.”

“Y-yeah. That’s-”

“That’s why you were so moved during the lesson.”

“They had greater number. Crouch, Lestrange brothers and-”

“Bellatrix.”

Moody pretender stood with his back to the boy, reliving the scene in his mind.

 “Professor, how do you know it?”

“Ah, I was reminded when you talked. I saw the papers, loud case. They all landed in Azkaban afterward.”

Neville seemed to accept that explanation unquestioningly.

“The worst thing about it all is that my parents didn’t even have the information the attackers were looking for. Even if they wished to stop that… they couldn’t. It wasn’t plain stubbornness from their part, it was an honest not knowing.”

“Indeed, that was truly an unfortunate circumstance.”

And to think that the whole hazardous action was doomed to fail in advance. All the risk for nothing. It was a last, desperate move that they paid dearly for and it was pointless from the very beginning.

Bartemius Jr.’s hand, unfamiliarly plump, clenched tighter onto the kettle’s handle. Bella, Rabastan, Rodolphus – they were all still in prison and he couldn’t help them for now, executing a far more important plan to bring his Lord back to his full glory. It meant loitering here, biding his time with children yet it was unarguably a priority mission.

“We can only live on and try harder, perform our duties better,” he mused, almost to himself.

“Y-yes, I agree,” Neville’s sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve and rubbing at the glistening eyes with his fist.

It brought Barty back to the presence, a boiling water’s whistle stopped sounding like Alice Longbottom’s scream under his spell. He took up the kettle to fill their tea cups. It wasn’t a time for daydreaming now.

“Here, have a drink.”

“Thank you,” Neville took the offered steaming cup. “Is it a sedative? I can smell hellebore.”

Barty looked at him with the tiniest amount of true interest that for the first time involved the boy directly and wasn’t just the result of whose son he was.

“Madam Sprout mentioned you’re good at Herbology but I didn’t suspect it’s to this extent that you can recognize a plant from a smell itself and tell its properties.”

Neville flushed, both hampered and pleased by the praise. He muttered something that might be yet another thank you or some short explanation of how he got the knowledge.

“I think you should enjoy this book,” Barty indicated the monstrous volume lying on the table.

Neville looked at it as if he noticed it for the first time. He reached to the cover earnestly, then hesitated, nearly spilling off the tea in his clumsiness.

“Go on, take it. It’s yours,” Barty Jr. urged. “I have no use for it, it only takes up place on my shelves.”

This time Neville managed to not only spill some tea but the whole cup dropped to the ground, braking into pieces.

“I’m terribly sorry, professor, I’ll  clean it up right away!”

“No!” Barty shouted, seeing that Neville reaches for his wand. He cast a quick cleaning spell himself with the move of his wrist, before the Gryffindor managed to bring yet more ruin to his office.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to-” Neville was blubbering.

“It’s okay,” told him Barty. “I’m not angry with you. Just… take the book and be gone. I have work to do.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

Neville got up hastily, nearly tripping over his own legs on his run to the door.

“Longbottom,” Barty’s voice stopped him in the threshold.

“Y-yes?”

“The book.” He handed the thick, brick-like tome to the boy.

“Ah, of course, right. Thank you, sir.”

Longbottoms’ offspring disappeared behind the door finally, leaving Barty Jr. alone with his thoughts. He really wished Harry Potter himself will turn out to be less thick-headed because otherwise his task presented itself yet more unfeasible. 


End file.
